


A Queen and Her Knight

by buckybarnesplumwhore



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky barnes x reader - Freeform, F/M, Medieval AU, Queen!Reader, brock rumlow x black!reader, bucky barnes x black!reader, bucky barnes x reader angst, knight!bucky barnes x reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybarnesplumwhore/pseuds/buckybarnesplumwhore
Summary: Your husband, the King, is a brute, who's a philandering violent drunk, and is letting his kingdom crumple. So you must take action - deivce a plan to get rid of him, finally rule your new empire, with your one true love.
Relationships: Brock Rumlow/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	A Queen and Her Knight

The crackles of the fireplace echo and break into the comfortable silence, a few sniffles here and there accompany the flickers of the flames. The air was wafted with delicious flavors emanating from the feast displayed upon the two star-crossed lovers in the knight chambers. Tucked comfortably, holding each other, in a bear-fur quilt, and underneath were satin silk sheets that felt divine dancing against your buttery smooth bronze skin.

Mouth-watering scents of eaten bits of roasted pheasant with garlic coated potatoes, peas, rice, various cheeses, bitten tarts smothered with dried plum sauce, platters of fresh fruits ranging from plump grapes, and plums. No feast is complete without your love’s favorite delectable fruit - sliced plums. Along with two cups with only drops of ale left.

A feast made for a king - but yet the king isn’t present. No, in the presence of the queen’s company lies a true man, a righteous knight, a warrior, a hero.

Plucking sweet green grapes into your lover’s mouth, your fingertips lazily grazing his bottom lip, occasionally his tongue would dart out to flick your index finger. A coy snicker escapes you as he does it again - but this time, the tip of tongue lingers a bit longer, the curve of his tongue teasing you. In return, you pressed your luscious lips onto his bearded chiseled jaw, moaning at the soft sensation of his beard against your soft lips.

You adore his beard, flashes of heated moments of his face buried into your mound, feeling his bearded face scraping and burning your inner thighs, as he laps at your dripping sex like dehydrated ravenous wolf.

As you pepper his beard with feathery kisses, you coyly rub your clothed mound against his toned thigh, caging his torso with your leg draped over him. It’s slow how you graze your clothed clit onto his sweaty skin, a growl erupts from the depths of his throat.

“My sweet Bucky” you hissed through clenched teeth, a grin forming at the corners of your mouth against his jaw.

“Don’t tease me, my queen” Bucky huffed with desperation, his eyes rolling back into his skull, relishing on the sensation, his left palm moving to grip your hip, trying to stifle your tantalizing movement.  
You snickered into his beard, your button nose scrunching with excitement. Inhaling his musky cocktail scent of oak and mint.

You halted your hip, removing yourself from his side, Bucky whines from the lack of touch, always seeking skin to skin contact. Clingy some say, touch starved is the proper term, for your sweet Bucky hasn’t had gentle touch in years. His body riddled with scars from battle. And your touch is his remedy.

You roll yourself onto his thighs, your hands ever so slowly explore his hairy chest, his breath hitches at the softness of your open palms, and followed by your fingernails grazing his skin, he grunts.

His length hardening underneath, “Your body and soul is my temple, my only salvation” he whispered to you, gazing upon you through his lust fueled eyes.

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine. Out of instinct, he lifts his hips upward, causing you bounce a bit, signaling you to touch his rock hard member.

Your fingertips reach his navel, where you see the all-familiar fuzzy trail. Your hands placed at his abdomen, you push yourself further down his legs, so your eye-level at his navel.

A vial of unknown substance dangles gracefully hooked on a gold chain from your neck, it’s foreign substance sloshes in it’s confinement.

What are you two planning?

You lick your lips, your tongue slither out of your mouth, and lick his trail. Open-mouthed kisses near his groin, wet noises of your kisses make him whimper.

“Did you enjoy your feast, my love?” You purr, your voice muffled as your teeth nip at his cloth, hinting that you want your mouth full of only him.

“And then some” his choppy pants as he stares at you, how he adores you, worships you. When you came to the mainland as the new queen, princess Stark now deemed as Queen Rumlow - at a time when he was at his lowest at life.

The moment you hopped off your golden carriage, his heart skipped a beat. Your angelic exotic face was a gift from God himself, as the sun beamed before you, a halo of light formed upon your French braided brown curls. Your French accent ever so sultry, so melodious that can lull angels to a peaceful slumber.

Bucky vividly remembers when you put the king in his place when he insulted your two loyal guards, Carol and Valkyrie, in-front of his mother, the staff, and first-ranked knights - including himself. Everyone snickered at how a docile woman can coolly take down a ego-ridden beast like Brock down with just a few words.

How can a brute like Rumlow gain a wife like you? Unfair that an angel such as yourself was forced to be married to Rumlow. He yearned to protect you from the striking hand of King Brock, comfort you. Hold you, feel you, taste you. Soon he planned to seek your company permanently after a few encounters, a plan in motion hangs in the air like hushed proclamation.

Bucky remembers how his heart broke in tiny shattered pieces, when he was roaming the halls at night, and found you in a slumped fetal mess on the floor, the first night you arrived. He quickly came to your aid, your night-gown was ripped and tattered, and your legs coated in trickling blood.

“He ruined me” your voice was fragile and broken, and Bucky being your knight in-shining armor, lifted you in bridal style, and took you to his chambers. He bathed you, and comforted sweet promises in your ear how he will take care of you. For the price of embarrassing Rumlow, he took your innocence savagely, along with bruises painting your chocolate skin.

You pleaded for mercy but it fell on deaf ears.

Since that night, Bucky sought out your company, requesting your presence even if time was limited. Whenever you gaze upon him, his breath hitches, a goddess in the flesh. He kneels for you. Aching to touch you.

Secret visits to the garden, exchanging childhood tales, reading in the library. You would feel his cerulean eyes stare upon you that was fueled with lust, hunger and possessiveness, as you sat next to Brock on your throne, you would search throughout the crow of courtiers, for him,

Soon the budding romance wasn’t a secret between just two.

Bucky’s close companions knight Steven Rogers, and Knight Samuel Wilson promised to protect the couple, along with your royal guards Carol and Valkyrie. All four friends despises the king’s guts, so it was no issue for each person to take guard whenever you and Bucky locked yourselves in a room to make love.

His conquest to claim you had started a vigor for life within him, and your love for him has made him feel more victorious than winning a thousand wars.

“With my true king’s belly full, I will provide you my body. I wanna ravish you, I’ve been denied your touch for too long. Tonight will indefinitely end joyous” you spoke against his groin, licking the clothed cock, rubbing your face against it.

Just as he worships you, you worship him.

Winking at your lover with mischief.

“How you spoil me, your majesty” Bucky’s voice cracked as his head rolled back against the plush pillow, anticipated pleasure rippling through his bones.

“But yet she never pleases me” a gruff booming voice interrupts the intimate moment between you two, a voice declaring itself.

A smirk tugs at your lips, Bucky’s inhales with a smug grin, with your head still at his cock, Bucky’s hands reach to your curls, playing and flicking with your loose strands.

“Why would a queen lay with a swine?” Bucky spoke mindlessly, not even acknowledging the king’s presence, his hand flickered towards the King, as Brock stands fuming at the doorway.

“You will die for this! You touch my wife?! Traitor! I will have your head, Barnes!” your husband’s threat goes over both your heads. Usually people shrivel in fear at his presence, but the content silence between yourself and your lover is speaking volumes.

“But your lovely wife has already bestow me hers” Bucky’s innuendo slaps Brock dumbfound, you snorted at Bucky’s jab, your shoulders shake with laughter.

“Y/n, relenquish yourself from him. NOW!” Brock started widely pacing around the room, at the point of screaming, but the guards outside won’t move a muscle.

It’s all coming together.

You removed your head from Bucky’s lap, huffing, you were hoping your husband barged in a little more later whilst as Bucky howls and spurts his seed in your mouth — to add more insult to injury.

“FILTHY WHORE! I LET YOU HAVE THE HONOR OF BEING MY WIFE, AND THIS IS WHAT YOU DO?! LAY WITH MY RIGHT-HAND?!” Brock stomped towards you, fuming at the fact you haven’t moved away from Bucky.

As he stepped towards the grand bed, you snatched a dagger from underneath the pillow, with a swift dash, a blur, you cut Brock’s palm. You can hear his skin rip, flesh being torn, music to your ears. An animalistic shout escapes you, your chest heaving, your eyes squint at his haggard form.

What is this new emotion? The shell is cracking, the timid lizard has become the dragon. No longer does she hide away, she will take whats rightfully hers.

Your kingdom.

No more shall he oppress you. No longer will you witness your kingdom fall apart under his reign.

Brock yelped, falling down on his knees upon the carpeted rug. Bucky chuckled, “Clean cut, my love” he said proudly.

“You vile woman! How dare you cut my hand?!”

You stared at the dagger, the orange hue flames gleamed at the shiny metal, your reflection staring back at you. The sight of dripping blood spurred a foreign emotion inside of you.

“Who are you?” Bucky asked huskily in your ear, instigating, he knows that untamed wild look in your eye. He loves it, “Who are you?” He asks again after receiving no answer. "I am your queen” you tilt your head to the side, observing your knight, “and who are you?”

“I am your king” Bucky’s voice boomed, his chest puffed out, a swell of pride beating in his heart, the intense gleam in your eye, it’s as if you’re a bloody doe that cut her way of out of the lion’s belly, surviving the wildest of beasts.

And you will survive this final battle.

It scares him, yet it drives him mad with desire. His precious angel has become unhinged. “I believe in you, my queen. You reign has just begun, the people love your kindness, your willingness to be in their presence not look down upon them. Always at the village, landing a hand, providing food. Do this for our people, we choose you over him to be our leader. Rid of him, and rise. You are not his sheep, you don’t follow him. You’re a beacon of hope, a burning Phoenix.”

Your breathing has spiked at Bucky’s moving words, as you both hear Brock’s whining over his deep gash.

“And once he will be gone, we shall marry” you spoke against Bucky’s lips, Brock’s shouted at your promise to Bucky.

“You will not marry him! He will die, and you beside him, at the guillotines, both of your heads … CUT! I WILL PRESENT YOUR HEADS ON STAKES FOR THE WHOLE KINGDOM TO SEE!”

Brock’s outburst doesn’t faze Bucky, nor you at all. Stiff bodies as you stared into each other’s eyes.

It’s time.

“Quiet down, husband. Let’s discuss this over a cup of ale” not once did your eyes waver from Bucky’s tide pool hues.

“I don’t want a drink!”

“It will relax you” your eyes finally pull away from Bucky’s magnetic orbs, landing on Bucky’s scar tissue adorned on his left arm, the one Brock inflicted years ago.

Bucky quickly notices your eyes are watery, and tense. He cups your head into his hands, his lips at your forehead, soothing you.

One hand leaves your face, his fingers toys with the vile that hangs over your chest. Uncapping the necklace from the crook of your neck with the other.

“Brock please, we accept our fate. But one last drink, your majesty?” You plea, your eyes wide as dinner plates, as you fall from the bed onto your knees, gracefully. Brock’s rage simmers, always caves for the sight of a woman on her knees, begging for his mercy.

“If you insist, why not partake in your final drink?” Your faux watery smile of defeat convinces Brock, “Here Rumlow, a fresh cup of ale” Bucky came behind you, extending the cup outward.

Rumlow snatched the cup from Bucky, “Whores you two are. How long have you been sneaking around my back?” Rumlow’s snarls as Bucky holds you tightly against his chest, as you both sat on the floor.

Brock drunk from the cup, his face crinkles and contorts to strong facial lines of disgust - it’s sour. Not the usual flavor of ale, usually it’s a strong mixture of sweetness, with a dash of sour, but there is no linger of sweetness.

“Five months, Rumlow” your eyes darkened hooded, your small smile turned into a wicked grin, throwing Rumlow off, “Five months I have laid with Bucky. Five months of pure bliss. Five months Bucky has showed me what a real man is. A champion who can last all night, not a slurred drunken fool!” you shouted, as Bucky’s hand roam from your waist to cup your swollen brown nipples.

Toying with your perked nipples through your thin night-gown, pinching your nipples garnering a hiss from you.

Brock growls as he witnesses Bucky lovingly caressing your breasts, and squeezing. Brock opens his mouth to snark back at you but immediately his throat begins to close up. He begins to cough harshly, trying to gain his bearings, trying to grasp some breath.

“What’s wrong, Rumlow? The ale’s not good?” Bucky’s lowly growls with satisfaction as he watches the disgruntled king fall on the ground, clutching onto his chest. The fall of the cup clangs against the floor.

Flawless plan.

A simple plan.

A clever plan.

“Perhaps it’s too sour?” You asked as your arms reach for Bucky’s neck, holding onto him as he laid his chin on your shoulder. Brock’s broken wheezing cracks into the silence, “Well poison isn’t designed to sweeten the taste buds” you chuckle darkly at Bucky’s jab.

“No more will you take your kingdom to the grave, you’re too busy finding peace between the solace of a whore’s legs, and in your drunken stupor, you don’t realize the brewing revolution in the village. The people are tired, and so are we” you spoke with confidence, the lizard is now a fire-breathing dragon, ready to roast Brock to smoldering ashes.

“I will rule this land–” you then turned to Bucky, Bucky adoringly looks to you, a smile stretches slowly, “my Bucky will rule beside me, and with our beloved babe” you pull Bucky’s palm to your belly, where new life is slowly growing inside of you.

Bucky’s pupils dilated with shock ridden on his face, Brock hearing this released a gurgled roar of pain. Pain of his body shutting down as poison surges through his veins but along with pain that his wife is pregnant by another man. Brock can feel the unknown substance making his organs to fail, shut down, his heart physically hurting, his left arm numbing from all senses.

Finally getting rid of Brock, Bucky can have you all to himself. No longer you would have to lay with Brock to please his drunken state, and Bucky’s deadly jealously towards Brock is no more.

And now you confess to Bucky that you carry his unborn baby, his eyes fall to your stomach, a new wave of protectiveness and possessiveness washes over him. His heart swells at the thought of being a father,

His new mission in life to love and protect his family.

“Mine.” Bucky harshly kissed you, with all his being. The passionate kiss became sloppy, tongues dancing for domination, you whimper against his mouth, and his heavy grunts viberate in your mouth. Open-mouthed kisses, Bucky’s tongue visible as it flicks against your tongue, saliva strings connected to youe bottom lips. The wet sounds bouncing against the harsh wheezes of Brock slowly dying on the floor.

Brock tries to move towards you, gripping your night-gown, the fabric bundled between his thick fingers, close to your upper thigh, Bucky sees this, “Mine!” He rips Brock’s palm, and holds onto you tighter. His mouth wet with mixed saliva, whispering aggressively into your hair, mine. mine. mine.

You giggle at his alpha behavior, “Indeed my love, I’m all yours” you spoke against his chest, as Bucky’s strong bicep wrap around your waist, as one hand gently grip your throat, not to constrict airway, but it’s his declaration of love.

Brock’s chopped wheezing slowed down, as his body withered, the poison causing minimal shock waves throughout his pathetic body, the stomach acidic bile gurgled in his throat — his eyes turned a shade of grey.

The king is dead.

Bucky and yourself both smiled with glee, finally the pain Rumlow has caused with his reckless behavior as king is no more. For the past months, Brock wasn’t providing safety and proper reign for the lower class civilians, knights reporting the village folk have become restless with no food, a horrendous famine on the verge to break out.

Starting bad blood between other kingdoms to feed his ego, abusing his power. Putting individuals to death for petty crimes, to spread the cloak of fear and paranoia.

You didn’t realize you were deep into thoughts, until you felt a wet sensation on your ear, you were brought back to reality as you realized it was Bucky teasing your ear with his tongue.

You squealed, Bucky held your head in place sternly, “Wait your highness, I have to tell you something” Bucky’s breathy whisper tickled you, “What is it, darling?” You ducked your head trying to relent his ticklish breath, “Come hether” Bucky snickered, his false sternness, as your body wiggled against his.

“What ales you, love?” You softly snorted, Bucky responded with another wispy come hether, and your ear come closer to his mouth, he flicked his tongue against your lobe, a heartily laugh booms in your chest.

Bucky continued to lightly lick your ear with his tongue like a playful pup, he would brush his nose against your temple, back and forth as a pup demanding attention. His long dark chestnut tresses moving in waves, ticking your face.

Sniffling your hair like a wolf, you both joyfully playing, ignoring the presence of Brock’s lifeless body — basking in your new-found freedom.

“We will have a child” Bucky gracefully holds your stomach, already imagining you waddling with a swollen plump belly carrying his little one.

“I will love you and our babe for all eternity, even when God takes us home, our love will continue to beam in the high-heavens” tears fall down Bucky’s face, he never knew he would gain the life he always yearned for.

The door unlocks, there you both see Steven and Samuel entering, their gazes turn to Brock’s body, “Finally the king is dead” Samuel loudly whispered, his fist raised high, Steven smiling at his knighted brother’s excitement.

“Thank God for doctor Bruce’s pick of poison. Just like he predicted, quick but extremely painful” Steven chuckled, “Both Samuel and I were trying to be quiet with our laughter when we heard his wheezing.”

The plan was full-proof, for no one will say a word.

“Now a real leader can rule our land” Bucky hugged you tightly and excitedly. Never intending to let you go.

You were born to rule this kingdom, and you will.


End file.
